


The Gods Have Smiled Upon Us

by pollitt



Category: Alexander (2004)
Genre: M/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Gaugamela, Hephaistion finds Alexander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gods Have Smiled Upon Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CC](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=CC).



> Thanks to the wonderful Maverick for the last minute beta for this.

The battlefield is loud with death--carrion birds fly overhead, making no attempts to hide their intention, swooping in and onto bodies to feed, the open wails of loss carrying across the blood red land.

Victory was hard won--Macedonian blood flowed as freely as Persian, mixing and soaking into the ground beneath Hephaistion's feet. He knows the Companions have long since shed their armor and the paint of battle from their bodies and celebrate victory with wine and willing flesh. He knows, too, is as sure as the breath that fills his lungs, that Alexander has done none of these things. There were injured to tend to, stories to hear and dead to grieve over. He is not surprised, then, to see Alexander kneeling amongst the dead, his bloodied clothing stark against the dying of the sun's light.

For a time he stands silent, watching Alexander's shoulders heave and hearing the broken sobs that are as familiar to him as if they were ripped from his own lungs.

"Alexander," Hephaistion whispers, daring to approach and touch a shoulder still damp with the blood of the dead and dying. His words reach Alexander before his touch, both offered quietly and gently, as if to calm a wild animal.

"Hephaistion." Alexander's hand is cold as he reaches to grip Hephaistion's fingers, and his voice is not that of the fearless soldier, the son of Zeus who led the soldiers of Macedon and Greece across the sands of Egypt to this Persian land, who tasted victory and watched as his enemy retreated. No, this is the voice of a man lost and unsure, the ghost of the youth left wanting for his father's affection, who stood before the path laid out for him with doubting eyes, his hand reaching to his side, where Hephaistion was born to stand. The divine ruler waits shadowed in the grey eyes, and the man before him is one only Hephaistion is allowed to see. This doubt and desire is for him alone, and he will treasure and protect this Alexander unto the death.

"Come." Hephaistion's fingers brush over a hairless jaw up and over a cheek stained with tears, blood and sand. "The gods have smiled upon you. Upon us. We have tasted victory. Let me wash the battle from your skin. Tomorrow, we ride for Babylon, where they will greet their new ruler."

"Yes, we shall ride together, side-by-side." Alexander nods, reaching to take Hephaistion's hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He accepts the cloak from Hephaistion's shoulders and together they walk to Alexander's tent, silent, their shoulders brushing one another.

"The others have already begun the revelry. No doubt Ptolemy has already spun a hundred tales, each more grand the former," Hephaistion says with a smile, looking over at Alexander, who himself has formed something close to a grin.

"As Odysseus spun his tales, so Ptolemy will. He will sing of our glory for years to come."

"As long as we have glory to tell of." Hephaistion's hand settles on Alexander's waist, steering him to the back of his encampment. "Do you remember when we would steal away like this, hiding from both the watchful gaze of Philip's soldiers and Olympias's spies alike?"

"You for reading her letters so openly and I, I because my father would await my brother's birth."

In the shadows their fingers entwine and for a moment they are youths again, wrestling in the familiar Macedonian sand and beginning to trek upon new lands.

"And yet you were forever by my side." Alexander's voice is that of a king, and Hephaistion pulls away suddenly, secretly reveling that Alexander's hand does not disconnect from his own.

Together they walk, unafraid and unabashed, to the front of the encampment, where Alexander bids a fond goodnight to his soldiers, pulling Hephaistion through the folds.

Inside the privacy of the tent, Hephaistion pushes Alexander down to the folds of the pallet, and unclasps Alexander's garments, revealing blood-streaked skin.

"Please," Hephaistion pleads, already touching the damp cloth to Alexander's skin.

"You're wounded." Wide eyes sweep across Hephaistion's body, and even after all this time, he still feels warmth settle across his cheeks and down his flesh.

"Merely scratches. Hardly worth a tale, and easily tended to by my own hands." Hephaistion runs a cloth over Alexander's chest, revealing golden skin underneath the blood and sand of battle. There will be no funeral games and fiery pyres yet for me."

"Of which I am thankful to the gods," Alexander replies, ducking his head. The flush that rises to his cheeks stirs something primal - at once protective and possessive--in Hephaistion's breast. "I could not bear to enter the gates of Babylon without you by my side. I would not."

"And you will not have to." The fervor in his voice startles them both, and for a long moment neither can speak. The spell is broken as Alexander rests and hand on Hephaistion's breast - the heat of the touch Hephaistion can feel through his garments.

With a final swipe of the cloth, Alexander stands before him, free of the traces of war and death, the garments of the king lay in a bloody mess at his feet. Beautiful and as bare as the day he was birthed, Alexander's eyes drop and Hephaistion would battle the gods for all of eternity to ensure no harm would ever come to the golden head.

"Stay with me tonight?" Alexander asks, and in that moment Hephaistion can see the youth that so captured his heart--defiant, passionate, unafraid and searching for the other half of his soul.

"My Alexander," Hephaistion answers, leaning forward and pressing his lips to a pliant mouth, sighing as Alexander yields to the kiss.

On the warm pallet of furs they settle, Hephaistion's arms remain open as Alexander settles against him, his ear pressing against Hephaistion's breast as though listening for his heart.

Tomorrow they will ride for Babylon. Tomorrow she will open her doors to her new king as a virgin opens herself to her lover. Hephaistion wonders if his arms will be strong enough to keep Alexander safe, to keep him close.

Tonight, he will thank the gods for the live body in his arms, that they have granted them another victory. He holds on with all of his being and follows Alexander down into dreams.

 

 

 


End file.
